Every year our church opens its doors for a week as a warming center hosting the homeless. On a given night, we might serve anywhere from sixty to more than one-hundred individuals, providing two hot meals (dinner and breakfast) and a dry, warm place to sleep. Our guests arrive at 7 p.m. and leave by 7 the following morning.
Finding volunteers to assist with check-in, security, cooking and serving isn't difficult. In fact, neighboring churches offer their resources and local businesses are always generous with donations.
However, the first few years we ran the warming center, it was a challenge getting people to sign up for morning clean-up. The early shift requires arrival at the church by 6:30 a.m. and includes cleaning the eating area, mopping and vacuuming the floors and (ugh) scrubbing and disinfecting the bathrooms.
One morning I was working alone in the women's bathroom and discovered that someone had been sick the night before and left a mess. (Let your imagination run.) When it comes to cleaning up other people's messes, my stomach leans on the weak side, and this particular morning was no exception.
I pulled the bucket of hot water with strong disinfectant close to the bathroom stall and began to clean, trying my best not to gag. I prayed hard, asking God to give me strength to finish this very unpleasant task. Soon self-pity took over and I found some comfort in feeling sorry for myself. I even silently grumbled that no one else was helping me clean up the mess.
Within seconds, God corrected me. "Stop your pity-party," He seemed to say. "Why aren't you praying for the woman who is sick? You can go home, shower and change clothes. You can even throw your clothes away if you want. But this poor woman has no home. She will wander the streets all day until the warming center opens this evening."
God has a way with words, doesn't He? I was duly corrected and ashamed of myself. Here I was, supposedly serving other people, but I was making it all about me. His rebuke was exactly what I needed to finish the job. As I emptied the bucket of water, I prayed for the safety and healing of the woman who really needed a touch from God that day.
Self-focus knows how to skew our vision so we don't see the needs of others, and we forget why we're helping them in the first place. If we're not careful, self-focus can even overshadow the very presence of God in a situation. Maybe that's why John the disciple said, "He [Jesus] must become greater; I must become less" (John 3:30).
This Christmas season, let's purpose to be "shrink-wrapped" so people will see less of us and more of God.
Wednesday, December 3, 2014
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
A View from the Dressing Room
This month I've been participating in a major musical production performing in six different locations. It's been a wonderful learning experience--especially in the dressing room that is shared by several dozen women and teen girls.
Being in six different locations means we are always learning a new layout of the land. One location might have a huge changing area while another has extremely limited space. For example, at a high school location, the women were relegated to share the band room as a changing area. We hung our costumes on music stands and waited our turns to use the full-length mirrors in the very small restroom located several hallways away.
At one theater, we were led to the basement and told to look for the room with our names on a list posted on the door. As I walked through the hall, I glanced into one room where around ten women sat comfortably putting on their stage makeup in front of lighted mirrors. Perfect, I thought to myself. We'll finally have a decent-sized space with some elbow room.
The door holding my name opened into a large space with some tables and chairs--sans mirrors. Around thirty women and teens carrying suitcases and garment bags jostled their way through the crowded room to find a semi-private space or a corner where they could change and put on make-up. It was chaotic, to say the least, but everyone tried to be as considerate as possible.
Suddenly the door jerked open and a woman, sporting a massive chip on her shoulder, barged in dragging her wheeled suitcase behind her. She took one look at the crowded room and loudly declared, "Where in the world am I supposed to change? This is ridiculous. I'm outta here." She did an about-face and exited the room, pulling her suitcase (and shoulder chip) clumsily out the door. (In a moment of show biz enthusiasm, I wanted to call out, "Break a leg!" but I resisted the temptation.)
Later during the performance I watched as she stood on the theater stage and sang angelically before a cheering crowd. Her platform appearance certainly didn't match her dressing room performance. She may have put on a good act for the audience, but credibility with the fellow-actors who saw her in the dressing room was lost.
The word hypocrite comes from the Greek word hypokrites, which means "stage actor or pretender." If we're not mindful of what we do in private, what we do in public will soon be discovered as mere acting. And, it will end up costing us our integrity. I think that's too high a price to pay just to get our own way.
You know what they say: "The show must go on!" But remember--the real show begins in the dressing room, not on the stage.
Being in six different locations means we are always learning a new layout of the land. One location might have a huge changing area while another has extremely limited space. For example, at a high school location, the women were relegated to share the band room as a changing area. We hung our costumes on music stands and waited our turns to use the full-length mirrors in the very small restroom located several hallways away.
At one theater, we were led to the basement and told to look for the room with our names on a list posted on the door. As I walked through the hall, I glanced into one room where around ten women sat comfortably putting on their stage makeup in front of lighted mirrors. Perfect, I thought to myself. We'll finally have a decent-sized space with some elbow room.
The door holding my name opened into a large space with some tables and chairs--sans mirrors. Around thirty women and teens carrying suitcases and garment bags jostled their way through the crowded room to find a semi-private space or a corner where they could change and put on make-up. It was chaotic, to say the least, but everyone tried to be as considerate as possible.
Suddenly the door jerked open and a woman, sporting a massive chip on her shoulder, barged in dragging her wheeled suitcase behind her. She took one look at the crowded room and loudly declared, "Where in the world am I supposed to change? This is ridiculous. I'm outta here." She did an about-face and exited the room, pulling her suitcase (and shoulder chip) clumsily out the door. (In a moment of show biz enthusiasm, I wanted to call out, "Break a leg!" but I resisted the temptation.)
Later during the performance I watched as she stood on the theater stage and sang angelically before a cheering crowd. Her platform appearance certainly didn't match her dressing room performance. She may have put on a good act for the audience, but credibility with the fellow-actors who saw her in the dressing room was lost.
The word hypocrite comes from the Greek word hypokrites, which means "stage actor or pretender." If we're not mindful of what we do in private, what we do in public will soon be discovered as mere acting. And, it will end up costing us our integrity. I think that's too high a price to pay just to get our own way.
You know what they say: "The show must go on!" But remember--the real show begins in the dressing room, not on the stage.
Tuesday, November 11, 2014
Unified Harmony
Two psychologists, Jack Lipton from Union College and R. Scott Builione, a graduate student at Columbia University, conducted a study of sixteen major symphony orchestras to discover stereotypes and personality traits attributed by orchestra members to the other four major sections--percussion, string, brass and wind. (Visit www.princeton.edu/~artspol/art46.html to read more about the study.) They presented their findings at a meeting of the American Psychological Association:
So, how can such a divergent group come together to produce wonderful music? The psychologists concluded, "Regardless of how those musicians view each other, they subordinate their feelings and biases to the leadership of the conductor. Under his guidance, they play beautiful music."
Everyone plays a different part in the orchestra of life. Our similarities make us unified--our differences make us harmonized. Whether we are working with a team, serving on a committee or joining a group, we need to subordinate our feelings and biases so the end results will sound like music to all who hear.
- The percussionists were viewed by other orchestra members as insensitive, unintelligent, hard-of-hearing, but fun-loving.
- String players were seen as arrogant, stuffy and unathletic.
- Brass players were described as "loud."
- Woodwind players seemed to be held in the highest esteem, described as quiet and meticulous, although a bit egotistical.
So, how can such a divergent group come together to produce wonderful music? The psychologists concluded, "Regardless of how those musicians view each other, they subordinate their feelings and biases to the leadership of the conductor. Under his guidance, they play beautiful music."
Everyone plays a different part in the orchestra of life. Our similarities make us unified--our differences make us harmonized. Whether we are working with a team, serving on a committee or joining a group, we need to subordinate our feelings and biases so the end results will sound like music to all who hear.
Monday, November 3, 2014
A Sixty-Second Lesson
I saw a dog get hit by a car today. It was a horrible start to a Monday morning, and everything happened in a matter of seconds.
I was in the right lane of a five-lane road when I heard a voice on the other side of the street shout what sounded like, "Oh no!" Then came a thump. I thought the car next to me had run over some sort of debris. I looked in my side-view mirror in time to see a dog rolling across the lanes of traffic. All of the cars behind the accident stopped as the owner ran to rescue his pet. Some of the cars pulled over to the side to assist the dog owner. Sadly, the driver of the car that hit the dog just kept driving.
Realizing there was nothing I could do about the situation, I drove home in a somber frame of mind. Thinking back on the incident, I can see a lot of actors, actions and lessons in this sixty-second scenario:
I was in the right lane of a five-lane road when I heard a voice on the other side of the street shout what sounded like, "Oh no!" Then came a thump. I thought the car next to me had run over some sort of debris. I looked in my side-view mirror in time to see a dog rolling across the lanes of traffic. All of the cars behind the accident stopped as the owner ran to rescue his pet. Some of the cars pulled over to the side to assist the dog owner. Sadly, the driver of the car that hit the dog just kept driving.
Realizing there was nothing I could do about the situation, I drove home in a somber frame of mind. Thinking back on the incident, I can see a lot of actors, actions and lessons in this sixty-second scenario:
- The pet: The poor little guy was just out for a brisk morning walk with his owner. Apparently he broke free from his leash and headed to where he thought the action was--five lanes of cars! The leash was his restraint, but it was also his protection. When we feel like we are being restrained, it could be for our own protection. Let's not be too quick to break free to run to something that could end up being very dangerous.
- The pet owner: He began his day with what was probably a routine dog walk. I'm sure seeing his dog hit wasn't on his list of things to do today. Life can blindside us with disappointments and hurts. No one is immune to challenging circumstances, but God has promised to help us in the day of trouble (read Psalms 46:1-3).
- The casual observer: That would be me. After realizing what happened, I just kept driving as I observed through my side-view mirror. The images of what happened became smaller as the distance between myself and the accident became greater. After turning a corner, the entire situation was out of my sight. When we witness unfortunate circumstances, sometimes our first tendency is to not get involved. I rationalized that other cars were stopping to help, so what difference would it make if I turned back? Maybe it wouldn't have made a difference for the pet owner, but it would have made a difference to me knowing I had done everything I could to help. If we do everything we can, we won't have to second-guess ourselves--as I'm doing right now.
- The active observers: All of the cars behind the accident stopped. I saw some pull over to the curb as drivers and passengers got out to help the pet owner. It was a very moving sight to witness. No doubt, the only regret those drivers have today is that they had to witness such a sad scene. I'm sure that not one of them regrets stopping to help.
- The oblivious driver: The guilty driver seemed totally unaware of what had happened. Did she even look in her rear-view mirror to see what happened? Apparently not. A few blocks away, she made a left turn at the light and went on with her day, completely oblivious to the chaos she left in her wake. It's easy to throw people under the bus when we don't take responsibility for our own actions. People can be seriously hurt from our thoughtlessness. Maybe we need to be more alert of what we do or say so we can avoid unnecessary injury.
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
Coming Of Age
My husband signed us up to attend a senior luncheon. Although I am technically a chronological "senior," I don't do senior anything. You can call it pride if you want, but I don't order off the senior menu, even if it means I might save a little money or get a free coffee. I'm willing to pay extra to hold on to the last shreds of my youth.
On the other hand, my husband, who started turning grey in his 30's, takes pride in his seniorship. Hence the speedy sign-up for the senior luncheon.
I enjoy hanging out with youth and young adults. They're energetic and fun and--well--they're youthful! They represent everything I love, and I respect them for it. New ideas? Great! Bring 'em. Perhaps that's the reason for my conflict. Seniors seem set in their ways, slow to move, impatient and resistant to new ideas. On the other hand, they represent stability, experience and wisdom.
How can the gap be bridged between generations?
1. Hang out with each other. Share your stories and gain respect for each other. Do you know a Viet Nam vet? Ask him about his years of service. Do you live next door to a college student? Find out his life's goals and encourage him to reach for the stars.
2. Try some reverse mentoring. Seniors can struggle with technology. Younger people would jump at the chance to show us how our thumbs can quickly dance over the phone keys so we can increase our text speed and amaze our grandkids. Seniors can also enjoy a quick texting tutorial so we know what LOL, SMH and other obscure abbreviations mean. In exchange, teach a younger girl how to make a pie crust from scratch or how to can tomatoes.
3. Recognize and respect the different frames of reference. Seniors look at life through a scope of five or more decades. No matter how strong the scent of mothballs, the younger generation should not pooh-pooh the senior whose default is, "I remember when . . ." or "Back in the day . . ." Remember, seniors have experienced wars (and many rumors of wars) and have lived under numerous U.S. presidents (I've lived under the administration of twelve of the forty-four presidencies!) However, we seniors should remember that we were young once. Our smaller frames of reference contained a lot of enthusiasm and love for life. The last thing seniors should do is quench the flame of creativity and excitement carried by the younger generation.
4. Be flexible with each other. You would think that the broader the frame of reference, the greater the amount of flexibility. Unfortunately, seniors tend to resist change. And, younger people tend to invite change whether it's needed or not. Change is not a bad thing if it's done in the right way and at the right time.Think of how healthy our generational relationships would be if we could capture the energy of youth and blend it with the wisdom of seniors.
Bottom line: It's all about honoring and respecting each other regardless of age.
So, I guess I need to honor my fellow-seniors and attend the luncheon. I'll do my best to enjoy it. After all, everyone at the table will have a compelling story to tell from a broad frame of reference. I'll go and act my age. And then I'll tweet about my experience.
On the other hand, my husband, who started turning grey in his 30's, takes pride in his seniorship. Hence the speedy sign-up for the senior luncheon.
I enjoy hanging out with youth and young adults. They're energetic and fun and--well--they're youthful! They represent everything I love, and I respect them for it. New ideas? Great! Bring 'em. Perhaps that's the reason for my conflict. Seniors seem set in their ways, slow to move, impatient and resistant to new ideas. On the other hand, they represent stability, experience and wisdom.
How can the gap be bridged between generations?
1. Hang out with each other. Share your stories and gain respect for each other. Do you know a Viet Nam vet? Ask him about his years of service. Do you live next door to a college student? Find out his life's goals and encourage him to reach for the stars.
2. Try some reverse mentoring. Seniors can struggle with technology. Younger people would jump at the chance to show us how our thumbs can quickly dance over the phone keys so we can increase our text speed and amaze our grandkids. Seniors can also enjoy a quick texting tutorial so we know what LOL, SMH and other obscure abbreviations mean. In exchange, teach a younger girl how to make a pie crust from scratch or how to can tomatoes.
3. Recognize and respect the different frames of reference. Seniors look at life through a scope of five or more decades. No matter how strong the scent of mothballs, the younger generation should not pooh-pooh the senior whose default is, "I remember when . . ." or "Back in the day . . ." Remember, seniors have experienced wars (and many rumors of wars) and have lived under numerous U.S. presidents (I've lived under the administration of twelve of the forty-four presidencies!) However, we seniors should remember that we were young once. Our smaller frames of reference contained a lot of enthusiasm and love for life. The last thing seniors should do is quench the flame of creativity and excitement carried by the younger generation.
4. Be flexible with each other. You would think that the broader the frame of reference, the greater the amount of flexibility. Unfortunately, seniors tend to resist change. And, younger people tend to invite change whether it's needed or not. Change is not a bad thing if it's done in the right way and at the right time.Think of how healthy our generational relationships would be if we could capture the energy of youth and blend it with the wisdom of seniors.
Bottom line: It's all about honoring and respecting each other regardless of age.
So, I guess I need to honor my fellow-seniors and attend the luncheon. I'll do my best to enjoy it. After all, everyone at the table will have a compelling story to tell from a broad frame of reference. I'll go and act my age. And then I'll tweet about my experience.
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
Making Memories
This past weekend, our church celebrated its 75th anniversary. My husband has pastored the church for 25 of those 75 years. Our planning committee spent over a year contacting former church members (who were still among the living, of course), designing a fun program, and putting together details.
For months, my mind has dwelled in the past. I was raised in this church and I have a TON of remembrances to sort through. The thoughts from the past became current realities as people I hadn't seen in years converged on one weekend to celebrate the history of the church. The evening would be like a stroll through a meadow of memories.
For the most part, it turned out to be a really great weekend. You might ask what made it not-so-great. The people who represented unpleasant memories. Let me clarify. The people were great. The memories they evoked weren't.
As a teenager, I tended to be a little cocky--sort of a snotty know-it-all. I enjoyed putting people down and my words carried a sarcastic edge. Some people found me humorous, and that made me feel really cool. The more they egged me on, the more sarcastic I became. In retrospect, I cringe when I think of those teenage years. How did my youth leaders ever put up with me?
So, when my former youth leader (now in his late 70s) showed up at the anniversary celebration, I felt a tinge of guilt. To make matters worse, he and his wife sat at my table, directly across from me. Talk about awkward.
Throughout the evening, various people representing different decades shared their stories. It was mentally intoxicating, and I found myself drifting back thirty and forty years to see things and hear sounds long forgotten.
Maybe it was the fragrance of the meadow of sweet memories that caused my mind to shift. I'm not sure what happened, but I was struck with a new awareness: If left untouched, regrets from the past can lead to more regrets in the future. I decided to "touch" the regret and have a long overdue conversation with my former youth leader.
As he was getting ready to leave, I cornered him and, looking him in the eye, said, "Thank you for your wonderful years of leadership over our youth group. I was a cocky teenager and don't know how you put up with me all that time. I'm so sorry. You invested a lot in us, and I appreciate everything you have done." He graciously shook my hand and spoke a blessing over my life.
That's a memory I can live with.
For months, my mind has dwelled in the past. I was raised in this church and I have a TON of remembrances to sort through. The thoughts from the past became current realities as people I hadn't seen in years converged on one weekend to celebrate the history of the church. The evening would be like a stroll through a meadow of memories.
For the most part, it turned out to be a really great weekend. You might ask what made it not-so-great. The people who represented unpleasant memories. Let me clarify. The people were great. The memories they evoked weren't.
As a teenager, I tended to be a little cocky--sort of a snotty know-it-all. I enjoyed putting people down and my words carried a sarcastic edge. Some people found me humorous, and that made me feel really cool. The more they egged me on, the more sarcastic I became. In retrospect, I cringe when I think of those teenage years. How did my youth leaders ever put up with me?
So, when my former youth leader (now in his late 70s) showed up at the anniversary celebration, I felt a tinge of guilt. To make matters worse, he and his wife sat at my table, directly across from me. Talk about awkward.
Throughout the evening, various people representing different decades shared their stories. It was mentally intoxicating, and I found myself drifting back thirty and forty years to see things and hear sounds long forgotten.
Maybe it was the fragrance of the meadow of sweet memories that caused my mind to shift. I'm not sure what happened, but I was struck with a new awareness: If left untouched, regrets from the past can lead to more regrets in the future. I decided to "touch" the regret and have a long overdue conversation with my former youth leader.
As he was getting ready to leave, I cornered him and, looking him in the eye, said, "Thank you for your wonderful years of leadership over our youth group. I was a cocky teenager and don't know how you put up with me all that time. I'm so sorry. You invested a lot in us, and I appreciate everything you have done." He graciously shook my hand and spoke a blessing over my life.
That's a memory I can live with.
- What will you do today that will create a pleasant memory for someone else?
- Instead of letting unpleasant memories become a stumbling block, how can you turn them into stepping stones by learning from them?
- What regrets have you left untouched? What would happen if you decided to "touch" them?
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
Things I Learned from Thurlow Spurr
This year I am participating in a huge Christmas performance as a member of the 300-voice Michigan/Ohio choir, part of the ministry of Concert Ministries International. Although I love to sing and have been a choir director for years, I joined the CMI choir because I wanted to experience the leadership of a seasoned choir director. I have not been disappointed. Thurlow Spurr really knows his stuff.
This past weekend we were assigned our places on the risers. I'm in the top row, far right. As we positioned ourselves, Thurlow and his wife, Kathey, gave us instructions which I soon realized could actually apply to life in general. Here's what they told us:
1. Find your window (so you can see the director and the stage clearly). - From the top riser, I had a clear view of everybody else's heads. Hmmmm, does she color her hair? Wow, I love that style. Oops, didn't realize he's bald in back . . . I had to check myself, because it was tempting to watch the dancers in front and lose sight of the director. The directors didn't move to make themselves visible to each of us. We had to position ourselves so we could see them. In life, it's vital that we take our eyes off anyone and anything that can distract us. God will make sure we have a "window" so we can always see Him. However, we have to intentionally change our position so we have a clear view of the One who remains constant.
2. Fill your space (with song). - After I discovered my "window," I realized that I had a lot of space to fill. When Thurlow directed us to "fill your space with song" I found myself stepping up to do exactly that. It was a big space, I discovered, and I tried to put as much into it as I could. In 1998, Lynda Ellis wrote a poem called The Dash, referring to the dash (-) on a tombstone placed between the year of birth and the year of death. The dash represents what happens between the time we are born and the time we die. That's our space. We need to fill our space with song, joy, laughter, encouragement. God gives us a big space to fill, but He also equips us to fill it. Put a lot into it and fill your space!
3. Know who's standing next to you (because you'll be standing next to them for a long time). As I looked at the altos to my right and to my left, I realized that I had been practicing with them for ten months but I hadn't taken the time to learn their names. We were just three members of the alto section. However, now that we were designated a place on the risers, we became altos on assignment. In life, we are more than just members blending into the human race. We are individuals on assignment. Besides that, if I forget my place on the risers, I just have to look for Nancy and Meredith and stand between them. Get acquainted with your team. They'll keep you in place.
4. Look like what you are singing (In other words, happy song, happy face). In Act I, we're singing some pretty poppin' songs, like "Boogie-Woogie Santa" and "North Pole Rock & Roll." I confess that we've practiced these songs so many times, I'm often on "automatic" when I sing. My body is present but my mind is elsewhere. Unfortunately, our faces reflect what's going on in our minds--and the looks on our faces can detract from the message. The Apostle Paul said, "Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord" (Romans 12:11). We should never slip into "automatic." Let's keep our excitement for life!
5. Don't sing with the soloists (so they can shine in their moment in the spotlight). The Bible instructs us to honor and prefer other people above ourselves, considering them better than us. This scripture goes against every grain of my flesh. I want to shine, too. Why do they get to be in the spotlight? It's very tempting to sing along with them--but why? Our soloists have incredible voices. They've practiced hard and they deserve their moment at the mic. Singing along is distracting to them and to the audience. The reality is that if we will polish someone else's silver, they will reflect back on us. The more we polish them, the brighter the reflection and the better we'll all look. I WANT the soloists to do great because it will reflect on the whole choir. And, the choir needs to do well because it will reflect on Thurlow and Kathey. Let's polish each other so we can ALL shine.
Being involved with CMI has been a great experience. I haven't just receive lessons in choir directing. I've gleaned some great stuff for life. Thanks, Thurlow & Kathey.
[By the way, visit www.cmichoir.org and plan to attend one of the six performances. Look for me on the risers - top row, far right.]
This past weekend we were assigned our places on the risers. I'm in the top row, far right. As we positioned ourselves, Thurlow and his wife, Kathey, gave us instructions which I soon realized could actually apply to life in general. Here's what they told us:
1. Find your window (so you can see the director and the stage clearly). - From the top riser, I had a clear view of everybody else's heads. Hmmmm, does she color her hair? Wow, I love that style. Oops, didn't realize he's bald in back . . . I had to check myself, because it was tempting to watch the dancers in front and lose sight of the director. The directors didn't move to make themselves visible to each of us. We had to position ourselves so we could see them. In life, it's vital that we take our eyes off anyone and anything that can distract us. God will make sure we have a "window" so we can always see Him. However, we have to intentionally change our position so we have a clear view of the One who remains constant.
2. Fill your space (with song). - After I discovered my "window," I realized that I had a lot of space to fill. When Thurlow directed us to "fill your space with song" I found myself stepping up to do exactly that. It was a big space, I discovered, and I tried to put as much into it as I could. In 1998, Lynda Ellis wrote a poem called The Dash, referring to the dash (-) on a tombstone placed between the year of birth and the year of death. The dash represents what happens between the time we are born and the time we die. That's our space. We need to fill our space with song, joy, laughter, encouragement. God gives us a big space to fill, but He also equips us to fill it. Put a lot into it and fill your space!
3. Know who's standing next to you (because you'll be standing next to them for a long time). As I looked at the altos to my right and to my left, I realized that I had been practicing with them for ten months but I hadn't taken the time to learn their names. We were just three members of the alto section. However, now that we were designated a place on the risers, we became altos on assignment. In life, we are more than just members blending into the human race. We are individuals on assignment. Besides that, if I forget my place on the risers, I just have to look for Nancy and Meredith and stand between them. Get acquainted with your team. They'll keep you in place.
4. Look like what you are singing (In other words, happy song, happy face). In Act I, we're singing some pretty poppin' songs, like "Boogie-Woogie Santa" and "North Pole Rock & Roll." I confess that we've practiced these songs so many times, I'm often on "automatic" when I sing. My body is present but my mind is elsewhere. Unfortunately, our faces reflect what's going on in our minds--and the looks on our faces can detract from the message. The Apostle Paul said, "Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord" (Romans 12:11). We should never slip into "automatic." Let's keep our excitement for life!
5. Don't sing with the soloists (so they can shine in their moment in the spotlight). The Bible instructs us to honor and prefer other people above ourselves, considering them better than us. This scripture goes against every grain of my flesh. I want to shine, too. Why do they get to be in the spotlight? It's very tempting to sing along with them--but why? Our soloists have incredible voices. They've practiced hard and they deserve their moment at the mic. Singing along is distracting to them and to the audience. The reality is that if we will polish someone else's silver, they will reflect back on us. The more we polish them, the brighter the reflection and the better we'll all look. I WANT the soloists to do great because it will reflect on the whole choir. And, the choir needs to do well because it will reflect on Thurlow and Kathey. Let's polish each other so we can ALL shine.
Being involved with CMI has been a great experience. I haven't just receive lessons in choir directing. I've gleaned some great stuff for life. Thanks, Thurlow & Kathey.
[By the way, visit www.cmichoir.org and plan to attend one of the six performances. Look for me on the risers - top row, far right.]
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